Fate's Folly

Runa stepped out of Viola's Visions and made her way to a park bench across the street. She pulled out her notebook and jotted down a couple of notes about her visit, then crossed the establishment off her list. Viola was the 4th fortune teller she had visited that day, and Runa knew from the start she was a phony.

 A shame. Runa had liked her. For one, she kept her place clean and tidy. For some reason, many of the psychics she visited kept their telling rooms filled to the brim with junk: crystals and gemstones, strange statues, jars of mysterious liquids, and one she had visited even had what Runa suspected was a real human skeleton. It certainly looked real. Fortune tellers loved to clutter their spaces with fake mystical nonsense because they feel it “adds to the customer experience.” Unfortunately, the women with the skeleton had turned out to be the real deal. Runa would have loved to shut down that health code violation, but she was not there to assess the cleanliness of the shops, only the legitimacy of their owners. 

Ever since a group of researchers managed to prove that humans could in fact possess psychic abilities, the fortune-telling industry boomed like no other. Suddenly, everyone and their mother was a psychic. Instead of a Starbucks on every corner, there was a fortune teller. The market was so saturated, it became nearly impossible to regulate, allowing far too many imitators to open up shop. There was a process by which you could tell with very little doubt if a fortune would come true, but it was far too tedious and expensive to test every single alleged fortune teller. 

That was where Runa came in. Her father was one of the researchers who made the Great Discovery, so naturally, when Runa was a baby, he took her to a fortune teller to have her future predicted, and then he and his team went through the process to discover if what was foretold would come true. This meant, once she was old enough, she was dispatched to hundreds of psychic shops a year to have her fortune told. If they were the real deal, then they would immediately tell her what was already confirmed to happen. If they were fakes, they would feed her some odd story about her future that would never come true. She would report them to the Faux-Psychic Task Force (FPTF) and be on her merry way to investigate the next place. 

Runa picked up her phone and dialed the number for the FPTP, but hesitated before pressing call. They picked up on the second ring. 

“F-P-T-P, how may I help you?”

“It’s Runa. We’ve got another phony. Viola’s Visions. 103 Lemmon Ave. Dallas, Texas.”

“Thanks, Runa. Keep up the good work.” With a beep, the call ended. 

Runa returned her phone to her purse and looked up at Viola’s Visions. Soon, the cops would show up and escort Viola away, closing her doors forever. Runa felt a twinge of guilt each time it happened. Viola was such a nice woman and had meant no harm. She was just trying to make a living, and maybe she even believed she was a real psychic. The fortune she had given Runa had been so sweet. She reopened her notebook to write it down, as she did all of the fake fortunes she received. 

You will learn much in the coming year, and although it may be hard for you, you will come out the other side a stronger person. You will find some kind of family in an unexpected place who will help you through this time. And finally, if you look in the right places, you may even find love. 

Runa reread the words a couple of times, allowing herself to believe for a moment it would come true. But, as every other genuine fortune teller in the world reminded her, it would not. That was because Runa was destined to die on her twenty-seventh birthday, which just happened to be tomorrow. 

When her father had first told her, she didn’t believe him. She still didn’t quite believe it now. Each time she visited a fake fortune teller, a part of her hoped that they were somehow right and all the others were wrong. That was why she documented each one, for the nights when her tragic fate struck fear into her heart. On those nights, she would peruse her list of fortunes and imagine- no, convince herself that one would come true. It was a hope she needed to hold onto, for the sake of her sanity.

She read over Viola’s fortune one more time. This one was her new favorite. She considered calling the FPTP back and explaining that there had been a mistake and Viola was a real psychic. What would it hurt? All she wanted was to make people happy and give them a small sliver of hope in their lives. Why seek out brutal truth when you could have soft lies? 

Runa reached for her phone, but the sound of nearby police sirens made her stop. It was too late; the FPTP was already on their way. Runa didn’t want to be around when they arrived, so she quickly got up and headed to her next job, her last one for the day. She was consoled by telling herself that Viola would pay the fine, then start a new business where she could shed some light on people’s day even better than her time as a psychic. A nice woman like that couldn’t be brought down for long. 

A few minutes later, Runa arrived at her final destination for the day: Fortune’s Fortress. The place was a shack. Not one of those places merely designed to look rustic and old, but an actual shack that had been subjected to the elements and lack of upkeep for decades, maybe centuries. Runa could tell the interior would be obnoxiously cluttered on the inside. The sight of it rubbed Runa the wrong way. Maybe she was just in a bad mood from her last visit, or maybe her deep-seated anxiety about her 27th birthday was corroding her mental state. Whatever it was, she just wanted to get this job over with. 

The inside of the shack was just as she suspected. Upon opening the door, she was met with the sound of high pitched wind chimes which triggered a headache, and she tripped over a cat, nearly falling face-first into a pile of books stacked on a cushionless couch. She bit the side of her cheek in a sudden rush of chaos and felt a trickle of blood in her mouth, further driving her into a sour mood.

“My apologies, dear,” came a voice from further in the room, though she couldn’t see its owner behind all the mess. “I told little Blackjack not to nap in front of the door, that stubborn cat. How may I help you?”

The woman stepped out from behind a curtain hung in the middle of the room. She was middle-aged with unnaturally bright silver hair and a wistful smile that she probably thought made her seem arcane. She wore loose hanging clothes and enough gold jewelry that she could have rebuilt the shack ten times over. 

“I’m here for a reading,” Runa said plainly. Usually, she tried to act the part of an unsure customer searching for her fate, but she wasn’t feeling it today. 

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Please, follow me.” The woman led the way back behind the curtains to a small alcove with two floor cushions and a low table. It was hidden away from the rest of the room, so at least Runa didn’t have to look at the hideous mess. There was still the smell of mildew in the air, though, and a hint of something else unpleasant, like old mustard. “My name is Tawney and I will do my best to provide some insight into your fate. Now, what will it be? Palm reading, tarot, or crystal ball?”

“Crystal ball.” That was usually quickest.

“Excellent.” Tawney set a crystal ball on the table and began massaging it with her hands. “Tell me your name, dear.” 

Runa obliged. 

“Is there anything, in particular, you want to know?”

“Just whatever stands out the most.” 

“Yes. I think I see-” Tawney stopped with a gasp. 

On a different day, Runa might have leaned forward on the edge of her seat, producing a concerned but curious look on her face. Today she sat, unblinking.

“Miss Runa, I fear I have bad news,” Tawney began. When Runa remained silent and unflinching, she went on. “It’s rare I see such a vivid aura surrounding someone. I fear you will die on your twenty-seventh birthday.” 

“Huh. Is that so? Thank you for your time.” Runa set some money on the table and got up to leave.

Tawney’s jaw dropped almost comically. “Wait, wait! That’s it? You’re just going to leave after hearing news like that? Don’t you have more questions?” 

“No. I’m good. I’ve heard it all before.”

“But why… You’re from the FPTP, aren’t you?” Tawney looked scandalized as if regulation of fortune tellers was a crime.

“Yes. You’re the eighth person this week to tell me I’m going to die, and the eight-thousandth in my lifetime. So excuse me for not getting incredibly emotional about it.”

“But… it’s supposed to happen soon, from what I saw. The aura was so strong.”

“Tomorrow, actually,” Runa said, nonchalantly, though she was somewhat impressed that Tawney could tell it was soon. Most psychics only saw the bare minimum.

“If it’s tomorrow, then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your loved ones, or traveling the world? Or even holed up in a bunker trying not to die?”

Runa sighed and sat back down. It seemed this woman wasn’t going to let her go easily. What a pain. “That’s assuming I believe it’s going to happen. Doing any of those things would be a sure-fire way to ensure that it comes true.” 

“What do you mean? If I’m the eight-thousandth person to tell you this, and I’m assuming the FTPT has gone through the confirmation process, how can you not believe it?”

“There’s no way things can possibly be as certain as they are made out to be. I’m not going to let this be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Until my world ends, I will act as though it intends to spin on. What do you care anyway? I came here to test your legitimacy and you passed. Can I go now?”

Tawney’s face softened into a look of pity. “Long before the Great Discovery, my mother and grandmother were both employed as psychics, though neither of them possessed a gift for it. For them, it was all about analyzing their client and telling them a near truth. They passed on that skill to me, even though I don’t usually need it. All this to say I don’t need a crystal ball to tell that you carry a great burden, and you are in denial.” 

Runa scoffed and moved to stand up again, but Tawney held up a hand. “If you stay and talk with me for just a few minutes, I won’t charge you for the reading. I think you desperately need this.”

“How very kind of you,” Runa drawled, stuffing the cash back into her purse. “What do you want to talk about?”

“First, when I looked at your fate, it was like a slap in the face, it was so intense. Usually, it takes a bit of searching, but not with you,” Tawney said. 

“So I’ve been told by any half-decent psychic.”

“Then how can you still deny that this is your fate?” 

“How could someone live knowing the exact date of their supposed death? Maybe it will happen, maybe it won't, but by choosing not to believe it, I’m giving myself a better shot at some semblance of life.”

Runa tried to sound matter of fact, but the truth was, she went back and forth between belief and disbelief. It was eating her up. The best she could do was pretend it didn’t bother her. She wondered if Tawney could tell. 

“Okay, then if you are going to live in denial, why have this job where you hear your future told to you every day?” 

“The job is easy, the pay is good, and the FPTP pretty much begged me to work for them. If I’m going to have a life after tomorrow, I want it to be a comfortable one.”

Another half-truth. There was such a demand for the job, the FPTP and her father pretty much forced her into it. She never really had a choice. Runa decided not to recognize the irony in that. 

Tawney sat quietly for a moment. “I have one more question. If somehow you do survive your twenty-seventh birthday, what happens then?”

Runa had spent hours upon hours thinking about that, yet she didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I’m no psychic.” 

With that, she got up and let herself out, careful not to step on Blackjack who was lounging blissfully in front of the door. With a jingle of the chimes, she stepped out into the world to seek her fortune, find her fate.